


our duet

by ritokki



Series: dust (it shines) [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M, OR IS HE, believer!yuta, doyoung taeil and johnny are also mentioned, fairy!taeyong, i hope yutae know i would die for them, mark :(((, prolly make more sense if you read pt. 1 but ehhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 19:55:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17566970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ritokki/pseuds/ritokki
Summary: mark is gone. taeyong is grieving. yuta - well, he's too good to be true.





	our duet

**Author's Note:**

> i just really wanted to give tyong's perspective so uhhhhh enjoy!!

Taeyong had always enjoyed sitting in Yuta's garden. Hours could pass but he would stay content as he watched the wind brush through Yuta's hair in ways he could never; the same way he could never give Yuta - the human he had grown oh so fond of - his name. Lest he becomes like the rest of his stupid, stupid family, all of whom now resided, scattered as dust.

It was forbidden, yes. Visiting Yuta was terribly forbidden and perhaps quite hypocritical of him, but he couldn't draw himself away from the man that sat in his iron throne, leafing through that week's second book. It was written in scripture that Taeyong could not understand and one that he had no hopes of understanding. Yet, as he observed Yuta's rapidly changing facial expressions, the curiosity became too much.

Taeyong had always admired Yuta from afar, never venturing nearer due to fear of discovery. Instead, he learnt to appreciate the way the amber light of evening shone through the slats of his canopy, adorning his face with stripes of gold. Or, the way his tweed trousers fit snugly around his waist and thighs. It was the way he held himself - with pride, confidence - although he was enjoying his time alone, a book as his only accompaniment, that Taeyong found himself so enamoured with. 

But now, as Taeyong snuck closer, he began to notice things he never could before. Yuta's eyes were a delightful, shining shade of deep brown that glistened with  _ youth _ and  _ life _ . Taeyong found himself equal parts amazed and envious. He didn't remember the last time he felt his youth. Was it years ago, perhaps? Before Mark was born? Before his mothers met their undeserving demise? He couldn't say for sure.

His wings contracted a steady rhythm as they propelled him forward, inch-by-inch as the seconds ticked on by. The rose bushes would protect him from his human's unwanted gaze - they owed him, after all. Were it not for him, the snow-capped petals of Yuta's ever-beloved Dahlia flowers would have long wilted. In fact, this entire garden owed him. It wasn't long ago that that irresponsible holiday housekeeper had been hired to see over Yuta's home, and in that two-week period, not once did they step foot in this garden of wonders. So, Taeyong took matters into his own hands, no matter how small they may be.

He had worked day and night, coaxing the flowers not to close up their petals, not to retreat into their own self-confinement once more. He encouraged the saplings to straighten their backbone and stand tall while holding onto their leaves with everything they could. He begged the ivy to release its choking grasp from around the slats of the fence and to retreat back to where it came, allowing a small patch of wilting daisies to redeem the sunlight that had been stolen from them.

He had kept them alive. Now it was their time to repay their debt.

Yuta's chair was half hidden in a wall of snow white roses, framing his resting figure like a light shining from behind. Taeyong struggled to find the words to describe him. Angelic, maybe. Or mythical - as ironic as it sounds. Honestly, Taeyong still wasn't sure if Yuta was even real. It wasn't as if he was perfect (although Taeyong's less-sensible side had a  _ lot _ to say about that) but he was just… good. He radiated goodness and it never failed to try pulling Taeyong in; after months of observing the human, this was the first time he had succumbed. He was entirely aware of how quicker his resolve had crumbled after the tragedy of his brother’s death. 

Taeyong remembered Doyoung's face clearly. After being sent by the council to break the news, Doyoung was entirely distraught and Taeyong had taken him into his arms without a second thought. Not of Mark, not of his mother's, nothing except the way Doyoung's wings fell limp as he crumpled to the ground.  _ It's okay,  _ he whispered over and over and over again until Doyoung fell asleep in his arms.

That night, after settling Doyoung in one of his spare rooms with a pint of water prepared, Taeyong went out into the fields that he and Mark would fly over every day. And he cried. He wailed and he sobbed and he cursed; it wasn't enough. How could it be? No amount of tears and tells would bring Mark back to him - nothing. He couldn't turn back time and stop Mark entering the portal -  _ his portal  _ \- and he couldn't stop the false teachings that had convinced his dear, darling brother to give that human his name. He was powerless. Again.

Then, he made a promise. To who or what, he didn't know. But he promised that he would stay alive. He couldn’t leave Doyoung, or Taeil, or even Johnny. He couldn't leave them as everyone had left him.

But then, he remembered Yuta. 

Yuta was human, obviously, and humans were dangerous. But, hell, he didn't even know if Yuta was a Believer. He doubted it - adults rarely were. So, maybe it would be okay. Maybe he could reveal himself and it would all be fine. He wouldn't disappear, and he wouldn't leave his friends all alone. 

He didn't know why he even wanted to show himself to Yuta. It was no secret that he was prejudiced towards humans, but something was drawing him to this man. Something familiar, something warm.

Something magical.

So he steeled himself. Without a second thought, he pulled himself from his cover. The gentle brush of the rose petals did nothing to calm his thumping heart as he hung out in the open air, wings fluttering like the butterflies in his stomach. 

The air stilled around him and time seemed to stop. Yuta was still immersed in his book, as if a bubble surrounded him, blocking out the world. Usually, Taeyong would find such behaviour endearing, but now all it served to do was to shoot down those butterflies one-by-one. 

His blood ran cold through his veins. It was numbing; his wings felt frigid, heavy. He faltered in the air, releasing a gasp that tinkled through the garden and tore Yuta’s focus from the page he had been so entangled in. 

Yuta’s gaze was gentle and confused, yet his eyes glowed with curiosity; Taeyong found himself lowering down onto the cast iron table, as if they produced a wave that forced him under. And it was suffocating. 

He was afraid - god, he was so afraid. But he needed to know.

After a moment of stillness, Yuta’s eyes widened. “What-”

“My name is Taeyong!” He needed to know. He  _ needed _ to  _ know _ . 

 

 

Taeyong doesn't remember much from that time, but he remembers Yuta. He knows he has to find him. So now, in this new body that is much too large and heavy and has a severe lack of wings, he makes a promise.

“I’ll find you.”

**Author's Note:**

> is this?? a cliffhanger?!?!?!?!?!? whoops


End file.
